Fade to Black
by DaughteroftheUniverse
Summary: The hobbit knew from the beginning that there was only one way him saving Thorin could have ended. He just didn't think it would hurt so much. But he was willing to do anything to save his king; a king that he loved with every fiber of his being.
1. Chapter 1

He couldn't say that he had been planning from the beginning to die for Thorin Oakenshield. Before the start of the battle, he had actually been planning on going back to the Shire, because in the time immediately after the defeat of Smaug, he had received a letter. The letter spoke of the death of his dear cousins, Primula and Drogo. He learned that they had left behind a son, of whom they wanted him to be the guardian.

So once he was exiled from Erebor, he made plans to return to the Shire and care for his little relative.

But all that changed once that battle began. Things got turned around and confused. The fact that he had his ring on to avoid detection only made it worse. He got it in his head that he would just wait for the battle to end. It was this to which he resigned himself and sat down on the ground, next to one of the many tents in the camp.

However something was drawing him towards the battlefield. He rose to his feet and began to navigate to where he was being called. What he saw when he reached his destination shocked him to the core.

Thorin was completely surrounded by orcs, fighting valiantly. He swung his sword at one after another, cleaving many of them in half, leaving a pile of dead corpses around him. Bilbo could see he was doing a fair job of fending them off, but he also saw something that Thorin did not. An orc was sneaking up behind him, sword raised.

The hobbit's world slowed to a standstill, all he saw was Thorin and the orc, and he knew what he had to do. Bilbo had no illusions that he would survive the wound he would most likely sustain if he managed to get to Thorin in time, but he didn't care; he had to try.

Without another thought, he removed his ring and drew sting from its sheath. He raised his short sword and ran towards the king. The scream he let loose to distract the king's attacker was full of rage and his vision turned red. The orc's sword came down as BIlbo's swung up to block it. The sound of the weapons hitting each other would have been deafening under normal circumstances but at the moment he could barely hear it.

Once their weapons parted, the orc came in for another blow and Bilbo met it. Their swords met again and again for what seemed like hours, but wasn't even two minutes. The red in his eyes faded and his muscles began to protest their abuse. Still he fought on.

He heard someone yell his name and then he made a fatal mistake. His attention turned from the orc and to Thorin, the one who called him. But once Thorin's face was in his sights, he felt a horrible pain in his stomach.

The pain made him want to scream, and he tried, but no sound came out. He realized that the orc had run him clean through with his sword. When the sword was pulled out, Bilbo fell to his knees and then face first into the dirt. He could no longer see what was happening but he could hear metal hitting metal once more. He felt blood seeping from his wound into the ground.

Thorin must have killed the creature because suddenly Bilbo was being turned face up and lifted into Thorin's arms. The king wiped the hobbit's now blood-soaked curls from his face. Bilbo looked into Thorin's eyes and was amazed; they were the clearest they had been since the beginning of the quest. No hint of gold sickness touched them, though concern shined out. Thorin said nothing at first, just stood, still holding Bilbo and began running towards the tents. But on the way he began talking to the hobbit to make sure he stayed awake.

They reached a healer's tent fairly quickly, however there was no healer within it. Thorin began calling for one when Bilbo grabbed his attention by grasping his hand with as much strength as he could muster.

"Thorin..." he began but was cut off.

"Halfling, please, we must get you a healer." he pleaded, but said Halfling shook his head.

"Thorin, it's ok," he replied, "there's nothing a healer can do now, just let it be."

"No, I will not sit here and watch you fade away when there is the chance that you can be saved." Thorin said this while trying to stand, for he had knelt next to the Halfling.

"Please, I'm already getting sleepy," Bilbo uttered, feeling oddly at peace with the whole situation.

A solitary tear began to run down the king's face, matching the sorrow in his eyes.

"But," Bilbo forced out, as it was getting harder to speak, "I would ask one thing of you."

"Anything." Thorin replied quickly.

"There is a letter in my waistcoat pocket," Bilbo told him, "take it." Thorin did and then Bilbo continued, "I would ask that you fetch the boy spoken of in the letter, his name is Frodo. I ask that you find him, and raise him here at Erebor, as it is very apparent that I will not be returning to the Shire." At the end of his statement, Bilbo began to cough and blood came to coat his lips. "Promise me Thorin Oakenshield," his words were now turning into gurgling," promise me this."

"I promise Bilbo, I swear on my life and by the mountain in which Erebor lies, that I will do this," Thorin said, and with his tears beginning to flow more freely, this promise came out followed by a choked back sob.

"One other thing,'' Bilbo began.

"Yes?" Thorin asked.

"Will you hold my hand? Until it's over?" Bilbo asked him with fear showing in his eyes for the first time.

"Of course I will," Thorin told him, anguish evident in his voice. He did as Bilbo asked and grasped the dying Halfling's hand in his, squeezing it as if to assure himself that Bilbo was still there.

"It shan't be long now," Bilbo said aloud, though whether to him or himself, Thorin could not be sure.

"Please Bilbo," Thorin pleaded once more, "let me help you. Just keep awake and I can go get someone."

"It's too late, believe me, I can feel it," Bilbo said to him and as he said this, he felt his heart rate begin to slow. "Just let me go to sleep, you promised you would stay until I did."

Thorin said nothing, still trying to control the sorrow he was feeling, he merely squeezed the Halfling's hand even harder.

Bilbo could feel himself beginning to fade and the pain melted away. His vision got darker, and for the first time, he truly let himself feel fear. He used his left hand to take hold of the hand which Thorin was using to grasp his right.

"Before I'm gone, my king,'' Bilbo said, his voice barely a whisper, "I just wanted to apologize, I know I was never the ideal burglar, and I'm sorry that I took the arkenstone, even though I did for the good of Erebor."

"My dear Halfling, there is nothing for you to be sorry for, I see that now." Thorin's tears were once again cascading down his face.

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him. He tried to maintain what little grip he had on his consciousness, because he had one more thing to say.

"One more thing, and then I'll be ready to go," he said as he felt himself drift even farther. Thorin leaned in to make sure that he heard every word that came out of the hobbit's mouth. Bilbo took advantage of this and, much to Thorin's surprise, pulled the king in for a chaste kiss.

"Thorin, my king, I love you. And I will continue to do so even when I leave this world." With that, Bilbo's hands went limp in Thorin's and the hobbit's eyes closed. Thorin froze and then let out a mighty, anguish filled bellow. He called for a healer, and one showed up soon after. Thorin then turned to calling for Bilbo. Begging his Halfling to wake up, to return to him, where he belonged. But his pleading fell on deaf ears and were of little use.

Bilbo Baggins knew no more.

For the time being at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**So I didn't introduce myself before. I'm Daughter of the Universe, but you can call me DotUni. Not much to say, other than I hope that you guys who are reading are enjoying the story. And do let me know if you find any mistakes, as neither I nor my beta are perfect. Other than that, if you have any questions or maybe even requests, feel free to message me, and I'll see what I can do.**

**Enjoy! -DotUni**

The room was absolutely silent aside the breathing of its occupants and the occasional whispers from one of the elves that had come from Rivendell. Thorin sat in the corner staring off into space, lost in the swirling darkness that had become his mind. He went around in circles, berating himself, using his mistakes as knives to wound himself.

It was HIS fault, everything that had happened to Bilbo. He would never see the hobbit smile again, or hear his laugh. The hobbit would never again enjoy the breath of life. And it was his fault, HIS fault, HIS FAULT.

Thorin continued with this train of thought, dragging himself into a sort of downward spiral, his mind growing ever darker. It was beginning to affect the atmosphere of the room, making some of the more sensitive elves uncomfortable. But they continued diligently, repairing the hobbit's wounds to the best of their abilities. When they were done, they all stood up straight and heaved a sort of collective sigh, then turned their attention to the dwarf king.

None of the elves were surprised that his outside had begun to reflect the turmoil within, but some of the dwarves were honestly shocked that the king was willingly showing so much emotion. Finally, one of the company, Balin to be precise, stepped towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. This seemed to take the king out of whatever dark hole he had put himself in, but the emotional agony was still entirely visible in his eyes.

"Thorin," Balin began, "Listen to me please."

Thorin gave no response, only stared at his advisor, blinking slowly. Balin took this as an agreement and continued.

"Thorin, he is alive, but just barely." Balin whispered, but the king heard every word and his eyes widened. Thorin opened his mouth to speak for the first time, but Balin continued, holding up a hand as he did so.

"I know you will have questions," Balin said, "But many of them, I cannot answer. What I can tell you is this, Bilbo is asleep. For how long, we do not know. But there is little we can do at this point to wake him without possibly doing permanent damage to his mind."

The king looked confused, but realized that his advisor had no more answers for him. So, even though it was much to his chagrin, he turned to the elven healers, hoping that someone, even if it was them, had answers for him. One of the elves stepped forward, hands clasped in front of him, keeping his face as neutral as possible.

"It is called the healing sleep, your majesty; at least that is what our people call it." The elf paused, and Thorin motioned for him to continue. "It is quite simple really, and is rather completely described by its name. It is a sleep meant to heal a person, one from which said person will not wake until they are fully healed."

"But how long will that take?" Thorin questioned, his eyes glancing back at the unmoving hobbit on the cot.

"It is unknown, your majesty. It depends on the person. There are people that only take days. And then there are several cases where the patient simply never wakes up. It all depends on the severity of the injuries." The elf put his hands in front of him in a placating manner, sensing that the king would hate this answer.

The elf was right, though no one expected the reaction that Thorin showed. His face fell, and the beings around the room could practically hear his heart break again. The other dwarves of the company who were well enough to be walking around, had come into the tent at some point and were now whispering among themselves. It seemed as though someone had introduced a new idea to the discussion because suddenly there was an excited hum to their voices. They continued talking for a few moments more, then one of them stepped forward to front of the group. It was Oin.

"Thorin, we've just discussed where we could let Bilbo rest, and then Ori and I had an idea. What if we let Bilbo rest at the Stones? The energy they give off will help speed up the healing process. It may take a few days to reach it through all the debris, but I think it is possible." Oin said this rather excitedly, and was completely silent after, wanting the king to give it some serious thought.

The king did so, and everyone was relieved to see the smallest bit of hope creep back into the dwarf's eyes.

"Are you positive it would work Oin" Thorin asked, seeming rather impatient for a reply

So Oin gave it quickly, replying with, "No, your majesty, but at this point we need any chance we can take."

Thorin seemed to accept this answer, and he finally shook off the rest of his emotional stupor. It was very obvious that he had now slipped into a mindset for planning.

So that is precisely what they did. They made an impromptu table out of several of the empty cots, and began to plan the excavation of the lower levels of Erebor, specifically the level on which the stones were located. They went at it for several hours, with the a member of the company occasionally looking over at the Hobbit, as if to make sure he was still there. The elves started to put in some of their opinions as they reached the subject of how to transport Bilbo down there; and though the dwarves grumbled when they did so, they had to admit that the elves had some good ideas.

And that is how they passed their next days. Sparing every man, dwarf, and elf that was possible, they began the excavation. It actually went quicker than many of them were expecting, and soon enough they had a path clear enough, that the passage was deemed safe for Bilbo's transport through it by the elves.

It was a slow process, transporting Bilbo to the stones, but no one was impatient. They were all relieved when they finally reached the chamber and took Bilbo within.

The Stones themselves were not much of a sight, leastways not to anyone that wasn't a dwarf-though you could feel the energy pouring off of them into the air. But the pools of water around them were dazzling. So many shades of blues, purples, and almost any color you could think of.

The elves looked around them, taking in every detail about the chamber that they could. But the dwarves were all business in a sense. They started talking to each other quietly again, giving each other instructions, while several were debating as to where to place Bilbo. When they finally made up their minds, they took Bilbo over to one of the pools closest to the entrance, so it would be easier to keep an eye on him. They took their time getting him settled, making sure that absolutely everything- the straps to make sure he didn't sink too far into the water since he was so small, and other things of the like- was in order. Eventually, even the elves were satisfied and they all took a step back and stared at the slumbering hobbit.

Soon enough, the majority of them went off to perform their numerous other duties. However, several stayed behind, including a certain black-haired dwarf king. He knelt next to Bilbo where he laid suspended in his personal pool, and merely stared at the hobbit's face, willing the hobbit's eyes to open. Before he knew it, Balin, who had stayed behind with him, beckoned him to stand.

"Thorin," he began, "I know you wish to stay, but we have other things that need attending to as well." Thorin nodded his understanding and, with a final glance at his Bilbo, they departed that quiet chamber deep inside the mountain.

-Late in the night, on the same day-

Thorin was sitting at a desk that had been set up in his tent, the moon full and hung high in the sky. He was very concentrated on his current task- which happened to be writing a letter.

_To Whom It May Concern-_

_At the moment, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End of the Shire, is indisposed due to his valiant fighting in the battle to defend the recently reclaimed Erebor. He personally saved my life and almost sacrificed his own. He also asked a personal favor of me before he reached unconsciousness. It concerns a letter he received in the time just before the battle. He gave it to me to read, and asked me to care for the child spoken of in the letter in his absence._

_Regarding the young hobbit being entrusted to Bilbo's care; we will send a representative to bring him back to Erebor as soon as possible. If this is not acceptable, negotiations can be made with said representative for a representative of the Shire to come on the return journey to make sure that we are able to provide what a young hobbit needs._

_If any additional details are needed, send a correspondence at your convenience._

_Respectfully,_

_Thorin Oakenshield_

_King of Erebor_

Thorin sat back in his chair and sighed. He hoped that his letter would be enough to convince them to send Frodo to Erebor. If not, he would have to hope that the representative that he picked would be able to convince them otherwise. But who to pick? Not Dwalin, he might give the hobbit's a heart attack, as Thorin had a feeling that Bilbo was something of an anomaly among his kind. But it had to be someone that wouldn't take no for an answer without express reason.

The entrance to his tent rustled, but he didn't notice, too deep in thought. But as soon as a voice spoke out, he was shocked so deeply that it almost caused him to fall out of his chair.

"Well Brother," the voice greeted, "It seems like you've made a rather big mess of things, haven't you?"

The king spun around, and if anyone said later that his jaw dropped, he would have vehemently denied it.

However, a single word did pass his lips, a name.

"Dis"


End file.
